


Lost and Found

by AtoTheBean



Series: A Dribble of Drabbles — 00Q Last Drabble Writer Standing [4]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:29:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23992330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtoTheBean/pseuds/AtoTheBean
Summary: Sometimes it’s best to start over.
Relationships: James Bond & Q
Series: A Dribble of Drabbles — 00Q Last Drabble Writer Standing [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1308389
Comments: 10
Kudos: 40
Collections: MI6 Cafe Last Drabble Writer Standing





	Lost and Found

**Author's Note:**

> 2019 week 4 prompt: 300 words based on the photo below:

He feels warm for the first time in a week.

At least on the outside.

There’s something cathartic about walking away and starting over. The dread that leads up to it is awful, the actual leaving is painful, but sitting on a warm veranda with no responsibilities for the first time in memory is actually a bit wonderful. Even with the cost… so high this time. Even with the flashing blue of the sea sparking memories of his eyes.

He’s on his third round of the local cocktail, tongue delightfully cool and throat wonderfully warm, when a familiar shadow stretches out beside his own.

He’d know those ears anywhere. _Damn_.

“Hello, 007,” he greets quietly. “Here to pull a trigger?”

“Or not pull a trigger,” Bond answers, reminiscent of their first conversation. “Took me a while to find you.” Bond seems impressed. “Thought you hated flying... and the sun.”

Q shrugs. “Part of the Q-persona. Best to keep some things close to one’s chest,” he mutters, eyes on the Mediterranean.

Bond grunts in understanding, then after a moment, asks, “Was accepting my dinner invitation part of the Q-persona?”

“No,” Q acknowledges, glancing at Bond. “Missing that was the worst part of leaving.”

They both watch the calm blue of the sea, but Q senses the tumultuous potential between them.

“Did you mean for it to happen?” Bond asks solemnly.

Three agents dead. Q shudders. “Of course not.”

James nods, taking a seat beside Q. “Whatever he’s having,” he orders when the waiter comes by.

After his first sip, Bond closes his eyes and leans back in the chair.

“When was the last time you had a vacation?”

Q huffs a laugh. “No idea,” he admits.

James waves the waiter over for another round. “In that case, we're in no hurry.”


End file.
